The same young Captain who had summoned Blanco in the Casino was left to act as messenger and Benton, following the officer through a side gate and into a side street, stepped into a closed carriage.

“I had not supposed that the Palace knew of my presence in Puntal,” commented the American as he took his seat opposite the Colonel of Cavalry.

“You were seen on the promenade.  It was reported from several sources,” Von Ritz made answer.  “Also,” he added as an afterthought, “we knew of your arrival two hours after you reached Puntal.  You registered at the hotel under your own name.”

“Does the Queen also know of my presence?” asked Benton.

“No,” was the brief reply.

For the remainder of the drive conversation died.  The two men sat mutely opposite each other as the carriage jolted over the cobble-stoned streets, until the driver turned into the castle gates.

Then Von Ritz again leaned forward.

“Mr. Benton,” he explained, “it happens that this evening a ball is being given at the Palace for the members of the Diplomatic Corps.  His Majesty, supposing that you would desire a quiet reception, instructed me to take you to the gardens of his private suite where he will shortly join you; unless,” added Von Ritz courteously, “you prefer the Throne-room and dancing salles?”

Benton’s reply was prompt.

“I believe I am to see the Count Pagratide,” he answered.  “I am grateful to the Count for arranging that I might be secluded.”

Blanco had gone into some detail in describing the chamber where he had met the King, and later the Queen.  Benton now recognized the place to which he was conducted, from that description.  As before, the room was empty and the portieres of the wide windows were partly drawn.  Through the opening he could see the small area perching on a space redeemed from the solid rock.  Dark masses against the sky marked the palms of the garden, and through the window drifted the splashing of a fountain mingled with the distant strains of the same Viennese waltz that the hotel band had been playing.  That year you might have heard it from the Golden Gate to Suez and back again from Suez to the Golden Gate.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN WHICH THE SPHINX BREAKS SILENCE

Left alone, Benton spent ten minutes in the room, then passed through the window to the balcony and went down into the miniature garden.  His face was hot and his pulses heightened.  The garden was gratefully cool and quiet.

From the window, through which he had come, a broad shaft of tempered luminance fell across the fountain and laid a zone of soft light athwart the low stone benches surrounding it.  Then it caught, and faintly edged with its glow, the granite balustrade at the shoulder of the cliff.  Elsewhere the little garden was enveloped in the velvet blackness of the night, against which the points of town and harbor lights, far below, were splinters of emerald and ruby.  The moon would not rise until late.